


Stars will guide you home

by martianapplecrumble



Series: Of cold Witcher, and the warm one that melted his heart [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Childhood Memories, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Recurring Dreams, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martianapplecrumble/pseuds/martianapplecrumble
Summary: When Lambert first arrived to Kaer Morhen, almost every night, he had the same dream.When he grew up, the Trial of Grasses already behind him, the dreams started to come less frequently, dulled with time and perhaps with the mutagens. Even though the memory of home was still with him, bitter and cold, he didn't dream of it as much anymore. It came to him rarely, only after extremely stressful days, and it was only an echo of what it used to be.And then, some years later, the dreams came to him again. Only in a diffirent form, and with a different person.A Lambert whump fic
Relationships: Eskel & Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), past Aiden/Lambert - Relationship
Series: Of cold Witcher, and the warm one that melted his heart [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868587
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	Stars will guide you home

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This part will be quite angsty, so I apologise in advance!  
> Also, there is an imaginary constellation here because it is needed for the plot. As usual, sorry in advance for any typos!  
> The name of the fic is a lyric from "Fix you" by Coldplay, which I consider to be a sort of Lambert/Eskel song.  
> There is also an old comics of mine which illustrates this fic quite well. You can find it [here](https://twitter.com/marsapplecrumb/status/1258574556954066944)

When Lambert first arrived to Kaer Morhen, almost every night, he had the same dream.

He would wake up on his own little mattress in his own little home, sunlight streaming in through a slightly broken window, and go to the kitchen to find his mom there, already busy cooking breakfast.

"Morning, Mom!" he told her cheerfully, hugging her from behind.

"Oh, hey Lamb! Already up and shining!" she smiled at him, giving him a hug back and a kiss to the head. "Can you help me set the table?"

"Sure!" Lambert answered, smiling, and rushed to the shelf to get the wooden bowls and spoons - his own one had a little bird drawn on it, he drew it himself and was very proud of it. Lambert also knew there was another bowl hidden under an old crate in the yard. A local woodworker gave it to him as a gift, and he spent his free time drawing flowers on it. That was for his mom's birthday.

After they ate porridge (corn and milk and butter, Lambert's favourite), the two of them would sit in the bedroom. Lambert's mom would spin the wool, and Lambert would play with what toys he had: a stuffed lamb his mom made him, some weird-shaped and cracked spoons, also from the woodworker, and an old pot with eyes and mouth drawn on it. He made up a story in which the pot was an evil monster who would swallow the townsfolk (the spoons), and then the brave Stuffed Lamb would save them, throwing the pot down and shaking all the spoons out.

His mom laughed at that gently. "Surely my Lamb will grow up as much a hero as this one!" she said, throwing back her black hair.

"No, mom! I'll be better! I'll build you a castle and put a zillion soldiers around so Father can never touch you again!"

His mom sighed then, bowing her head just slightly. She was sad. Lambert hated it when she was sad.

He ran to her and hugged her, and thanks everything she smiled a little.

"Wise people say the ones who do bad things get bad things back," his mom spoke softly as she hugged him back. "I'm sure he will eventually pay. And now, let us not lose our cheer. After all, even when the worst happens, we still have each other, right?"

Lambert nodded, resting his head on his mom's shoulder.

"Thank you for being here," he told her, closing his eyes.

"At least I have you. It would be so much worse without you," she whispered to him, cradling him in her arms. "You are my ray of light.."

And then, Lambert would wake up. For real this time

Only not at his home, but at the dorm number 3 of Kaer Morhen, the witcher school of Wolf, the fucking castle he hated so much.

"You are my ray of light," Lambert heard in his head as salty, cold tears ran down his cheeks. That's what his mom told him. That he was her reason to live. Her dear son, her beloved boy. Her happiness.

"You are my ray of light," was the last thing she whispered to him as Vesemir dragged him out of the house, tears filling her eyes.

***

"Lambert's having nightmares again!" Walter said as they were having breakfast in the dining hall. Only he didn't know that Lambert wasn't having nightmares. It was the aftermath of his dreams that pained him to no end.

***

When he grew up, the Trial of Grasses already behind him (although he spent three days screaming in pain, then lay motionless for about a week and was nearly considered dead by the moment he opened his eyes, and it took him two more weeks after that to recover), the dreams started to come less frequently, dulled with time and perhaps with the mutagens. Even though the memory of home was still with him, bitter and cold, he didn't dream of it as much anymore. It came to him rarely, only after extremely stressful days, and it was only an echo of what it used to be.

And then, some years later, the dreams came to him again. Only in a diffirent form, and with a different person.

***

"So ya gonna pay for the beer or not?"

Lambert fished in his pockets for his small sack of coin, searched through his bag, checked his belt, his panic increasing. Fuck. Someone must've stolen his money while that fucking tavern owner was distracting him with different sorts of beer they could offer. Lambert was fucking sure this was all a hoax, set up to bash a witcher whose only wrong was to be a bit different from humans against his own damn will.

"Uh-huh. All that drink and no money! Maybe the guards will beat some outta ya, hm? Guys!" the tavern owner cried out to the visitors, who all raised their heads. "Y'all wanna see the witcher get beaten?"

The crowd roared with laughter and cheer, and Lambert felt his blood boil as he reached for his sword, the fury from sheer unfairness practically burning him from the inside.

Then, there was a hand on his shoulder. Not gripping, just there.

"Shh. They ain't worth it," a familiar voice whispered into his ear. Then, the same voice, but louder: "I'll pay for him. How much?"

The tavern owner sulked visibly at that, his sneer turning into a bitter scowl. "Thirty crowns," he muttered, eyeing the person speaking with visible hate.

"Here," a scarred hand offered the man a small bag, which he snatched immediately. The visitors booed, clearly having expected a show of him being beaten. For nothing.

Lambert felt his fists clench.

"C'mon, let's go," the voice said to him, quietly, and Lambert let out a furious growl, letting himself be led out of the tavern. It wasn't like he had a choice.

"Why didn't you let me hurt them?" Lambert snapped, once they were outside. "They deserved it, the fuckers!"

"Maybe so. But they could've killed you. And it just isn't worth it, Lamb. They're stupid to the core, they aren't worth the effort."

"Would've shown them... but," Lambert took a deep breath. "Have to admit you're right. As usual. Thanks for, you know. Saving my life. I'll give you the coins back."

"No need," the other man smiled at him, his medallion - smaller than Lambert's, and of a different shape - gleaming in the moonlight. "Good to see you again, Lambert."

"Same to you, Aiden. Same to you."

***

"So, where will you go next?" Lambert asked, eating a baked potato off the stick.

"To Lyria," Aiden said, munching on his own potato. "Saw a notice that a duke's daughter got cursed and they need a witcher's help."

"Hmm. That doesn't sound too bad," Lambert murmured, resting his head on the other witcher's shoulder. Aiden smelled of lavender, and that scent always managed to calm him down. He closed his eyes, breathing in, letting his lungs fill with it. "Wanna meet up and head to Toussaint after that?"

"Oh, Toussaint. Love Toussaint. Best wines around. 'Course I'll go."

Lambert sighed as a warm hand stroked his hair, ruffling it gently just as he loved it.

"Hey, Lambert?"

"Mmmm?"

"See these stars up there?" a touch to his shoulder, a point to the sky. Lambert raised his head, unwillingly, and looked.

"See? These three form a triangle. These four, some weird four-angled thing. And these and these are like legs."

"Yeah. So, what's that? A dog?"

"No," Aiden chuckled. "That's a wolf. It's you."

"Oh wow. Another me at the sky," Lambert laughed quietly, moving even closer to Aiden.

"I look at it when I miss you," Aiden whispered to his ear, and Lambert's heart skipped a beat. He looked at the other witcher, lost for words, and saw that he was smiling, his eyes crinkling just a little, light freckles visible on top of his thin, long nose.

He was so beautiful.

"Is there a cat thing like that? In the stars?" Lambert whispered, his eyes half-closing as he looked at Aiden's slightly chapped lips. There was a scar below them, on his chin.

"Yeah," Aiden murmured, tilting his head just a little. "I'll show y-"

He was cut off as Lambert closed the distance between them, kissing his lips and letting his eyes fully close. Lambert was in some kind of peaceful bliss, like everything was just right, the way it needed to be.

" 's right next to the wolf one," Aiden breathed out between kisses. "So even when we are apart, we are by each other's side, in the sky. Remember that, Lambert."

"I will," Lambert whispered, kissing the words away.

***

Lambert opened his eyes.

It took him about two minutes to realise Aiden wasn't sleeping by his side. That he was in his bed at Kaer Morhen, alone.

Aiden died some time ago, on that exact contract in Lyria. He avenged his death, but that couldn't bring the witcher back.

Lambert shut his eyes tight, but the tears escaped anyway, falling down his cheeks. He should've gone with him. Should've saved him. It was his fault.

There must be some curse on him, that hurts those who he loves. Takes them away from him.

The stone felt cold under Lambert's bare feet as he went downstairs, out of the castle and onto the chilly steps near the main door. He sat down on them, raising his head and looking up at the sky. It was clear enough that Lambert saw the two constellations almost at once. The wolf and the cat.

Lambert felt his eyes sting.

"Even when we are apart, we are by each other's side, in the sky. Remember that, Lambert."

He did give him the thirty crowns back. He put them on his grave, along with the seeds of lavender he found some days ago.

***

He was so consumed by his sorrow that he didn't even hear the door creak. Didn't hear the footsteps behind him.

He jerked a little when he felt a blanket fall on his shoulders, fixed a little by firm yet gentle hands.

" 's cold outside," a rough voice said, quietly, as Lambert stayed still, unmoving.

"Mm. Thanks," he managed to say, his voice shaking and hoarse.

"Somethin' keeping you up?" a quiet thud as the other witcher sat down by him.

"Mhm," the last thing he wanted right now was to cry in front of Eskel.

"Wanna talk about it?" Eskel whispered. "Have those dreams returned?"

"No. It's... it's different," oh, no, now his lips were thrembling. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. Covered his face with his hands. Fuck it, he was going to break apart.

"Lambert," some shifting next to him, and when was the last time Eskel spoke so softly? "You don't have to go through this alone, y'know?.."

And then, warm hands wrapped around him, holding him gently.

No one held him like that. Not since he last saw Aiden.

Lambert lost it, sobbing into his palms, tears streaming down his face.

And Eskel held him, rocking him gently until the last sob left his chest, until his brain was fogged from the tears, until the warmth that Eskel radiated dulled the pain he felt. He collapsed into Eskel's arms, breathing unsteadily as Eskel cradled him gently, whispering something Lambert couldn't quite catch but it steadied him, helping his mind unfocus and just not think about anything anymore.

And then, he began to talk.

He talked in his semi-hazed mind, about his mother, and how much he loved her, and how he was taken away from her in exchange for his shitty father's life. He talked about the Trial of Grasses. He talked about Aiden too, of how they met, of how they worked and travelled together, of how he was the closest person to him. He told him about the stars too. And Eskel listened.

"I think I'm cursed, Eskel," Lambert whispered, feeling empty and exhausted, but better, just slightly better.

"You aren't cursed," Eskel whispered. "And you don't deserve any of it. You deserve better, Lambert. And I'm sure your time will come."

Lambert muttered something even he, himself, didn't understand.

"Geralt had plenty of shit too. And what now? He has his own house, and his beloved bard, and he's found Ciri and she's safe and free. You'll get that too, Lambert. You'll get that too."

Eskel's voice was soothing, like a salve to a wound, and Lambert, exhausted, let himself be carried away by it and the warmth coming from his body, slowly falling asleep in Eskel's arms.

Maybe the world loved to hurt him, but at least there was someone in it who cared for him. Someone he could trust enough to pick him piece by piece, broken as he was.

That night he didn't dream of anything other than a warm fire, heating him as he sat near it wrapped in a blanket. That was, as he discovered in the morning, because Eskel lit the fireplace in his room, covering him with the warmest blanket to be found at the castle and putting woolen socks on his frozen feet.


End file.
